


C is for Cry

by ioanite



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Alphabet Soup Challenge, Challenge Response, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioanite/pseuds/ioanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horatio may not like it, but even he needs to find time to grieve. Includes SPOILERS for the end of "Retribution."</p>
            </blockquote>





	C is for Cry

**Author's Note:**

> The third of four "C" fills for Lokei's Alphabet Soup Challenge.
> 
> A warning; while the focus isn't on the death itself, the whole fic is a response to a major character death. I didn't tag it as such, but it's worth noting if you have trouble with this sort of thing.

Of all the feelings Horatio hated to show, sorrow was the worst. Ever since he’d broken down sobbing at his mother’s funeral, causing everyone to look at him with pity, he’d learned to keep it all inside. He could shove the feelings aside for about a year, and then something—an illness, an injury, a sharp word—would set him off. At moments like these, he’d lock himself in his room and cry silently, emptying himself. After an hour or so, he’d pull himself together and start the process all over again.

As the years passed, he gained more and more control of himself. The intervals between breakdowns widened from one year to two, then three. His last one (which had been, unfortunately, public, something that still caused him to wince in embarrassment) had been in 1796, over a woman. Now it was 1803, and he had the awful feeling that it was about to happen again, albeit for a much worthier cause.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to force the pain away. _You’ve seen worse. You’ve felt worse. Keep it inside._ But he could feel it coming, nevertheless. His breath was coming in short, rapid bursts, there was a tightness in his chest, and there was a rising pressure behind his eyes. He grit his teeth, struggling to maintain his composure. _Not here. Not now._

He opened his eyes, hoping that he had enough self-control left to walk to the room they’d provided for him. As he lifted his head, the packet of orders caught his eye. Orders for Horatio Hornblower, Commander of the _Retribution_. He’d tried to look pleased when Pellew told him, hoping it masked his shock. How on earth was this fair? He’d just been on trial for his life, and he’d come out of it with a command, leaping ahead of the much more capable men in the service, Bush included. And how was it fair that he had a new command, while his best—no, his _only—_ friend took the blame for an accident?

Before he could stop himself, Horatio had turned his head and looked at the empty bed. Only an hour ago, Archie had been lying there, still smiling and joking, even in the face of death. By now he’d probably been thrown into a pauper’s grave. But the indentation Archie’s body had made in the mattress was still there, although by now it had grown cold.

It was looking at that indentation that finally caused the dam to break. The tears rose to his eyes and began to slide down his face. The tightness in his chest grew into a sob, but Horatio clamped his mouth shut, gritting his teeth again, and the sob was kept inside. Expelling his breath with a shudder, he wiped his eyes and stood up. He needed to get back to his room, quickly, before he fell apart still further. If anyone saw him like this, he’d feel doubly disgraced.

Then he glanced around the room. The place may be a prison, but there was only one way in, and the door was made of solid oak. Despite his rapidly weakening floodgates, Horatio still had enough presence of mind to weigh his options. He could try to make it to his room without being seen or losing control, both of which were well-nigh impossible. Or…

Making up his mind, he seized the chair and dragged it across the room, jamming it under the door. Then, with his last moments of clear thought, he crossed the room and fell across the bed, hands clenching the blankets. Exhaling shakily, he allowed his tears free rein.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, but gradually he became aware of the darkening room, and the pain in his chest that came from silencing his sobs. He was well aware that people would notice his absence; sooner or later, people would be pounding on the door. And when that happened, he wanted to look presentable.

Biting back yet another sob, Horatio began the process of calming down. Closing his eyes, he pictured his mother, holding him in her arms. She stroked his hair, murmuring a lullaby. He smiled a little, his breathing becoming more steady. He’d always found it slightly ironic that his mother was both the cause and the cure for these extended breakdowns. The absurdity of it all made him laugh softly.

Then, unexpectedly, the vision changed. He was on board a ship, lying in a hammock. Horatio realized that he was back on the _Indefatigable_ …and that Archie was staring at him. He recoiled slightly, and Archie laughed. “Sorry, did I startle you? I guess you were off in your own little world.”

“I…I do that sometimes.”

Archie patted him on the back. “I think we all do. Just don’t forget about the real world out there.”

Horatio blinked, and the vision was gone. He lifted himself off the bed, scooped up the packet of orders, and crossed to the door. As he removed the chair, he heard Archie’s voice again, this time referring to Horatio’s refusal to enter a brothel. _Always so upright, Horatio. Come on, live a little!_

He didn’t bother to look at the bed—by now, Archie’s indentation would have mixed with his own. But he did find himself smiling a little. “I will, Archie. For your sake.”

Smoothing his clothes, he left the room without looking back.


End file.
